There is this thing about being a survivor.
Living with something that could put out your fire.
A ticking time bomb continues my strife.
They say go on. Live long. Live strong.
How can I when I have let go?
Having said goodbye to everything that I know.
My family. My art. My goals, all gone.
Looked at them long and hard and said, “Now I must live on”.
I stood on my mountaintop casting down
Judgments all over town. And then… I lived.
You see… this is not as easy as it seems to be.
I have already said goodbye to you and me.
I have looked death in the eyes and said, “Take me tonight
If you so desire, I will not put up a fight.
I am ready to leave with you.
Because I have already become unglued.”
I am a soldier trained for battle.
Not able to fight. Not able to delight
In the site of a round fired down range.
Hitting its target, knowing his skills have been engaged.
Having trained for war.
Having laid it all bare for my legacy to store
All these little stories for the generations to come.
I sit here thinking about the prank cancer pulled.
It trained me for death and then it let me live.
It trained me to share my all and give
My humanity to the collective.
It yanked out my heart, now hard and unprotected.
To think I once called you a gift.
You have done nothing but set me adrift.
A homeless soul no longer looking for answers.
A homeless body always seeking its new cancer.
Seeking a shelter to share with the unafraid.
Where I can again shout from the mountaintop knowing you made
Me stronger and then let me live.
By teaching me how to let go and how to forgive.